Fatum est sacramentum operatur
by KaliTracer
Summary: After news of her father's death reaches Roxy sets out on a vendetta against his agency the Kingsman. She wants answers about his death but has to go through their own hacker, a competent man named Merlin. But it will be her best friend Eggsy and the agent named Galahad, who Eggsy rescues from a brutal beating, that will ultimatelely help her get the answers she wants. *slash*
1. Chapter 1

Roxy woke up with her blonde hair matted to her face and something warm-blooded pressed against her back. She kicked at it, smiling when she heard the familiar groan of her best friend, Eggsy.

"Oi, da fuck I do to you this early?" Eggsy moaned, stealing her blanket. He buried himself into his side of the bed.

"I locked the door last night," she said, stretching out like a cat as she brushed her hair to the tangled mess it normally was. She absently scratched at the mountain landscape tattooed on her right hip.

"Came in through the window," Eggsy said, waving a hand out toward her living room.

Slowly she sat up and rubbed at her face. Part of her wanted to restate that she would give him a key. Tell him that he's a moron for climbing in a window on the sixth floor without any kind of fire escape as a safety net. Instead she nudged him again.

"I'll make pancakes. You gonna sleep or grab a shower before I feed you?" she asks, pulling her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

"Didn't come for ya food," he grumbles. She yanks up the blankets and slaps his arse hard. He jolts, rolling off the bed in the flurry of blankets and howls, until he lands in a heap. His swearing comes out in half-mumbled sentences so she can't hear him, until he just flips her off.

"Shower," he grunts, head buried under it all but legs sticking out of a pair of white pajama bottoms that have red lipstick prints all over them. She narrows her eyes, because those are _hers_ and _he's stretching them out again._

"You need to use my washer and dryer?" she asks, pointedly.

"Already in the dryer," he says and heaves himself up. She can't help but stare at his back. In a way, it is her punishment to see it. More bruises color his ribs and lower back. The scars are a mess along his shoulders-lines and round puckered spots- some healing, others still red and angry. Roxy takes it in, and refuses to look away until he's closing the door on her loo, still grumbling about her mothering.

She'll take the grumbling if it means he'll get to enjoy a shower for the first time in two weeks. Hopefully, he hasn't been that long without a decent meal but she figures it probably has.

Shaking her head, Roxy gets herself out of bed. She has pancakes to make.

-

"Your Dad gonna stop by?" Eggsy asks, stepping out from her bedroom, dressed again her pajama bottoms-flamingos this time, but with the added white tank he's pulled from the dryer.

"He's on a mission to see about a kidnapped professor," she says, turning off the grill as she serves up the last of the pancakes to a plate.

"He doin' okay?" Eggsy asks, sitting down and accepting a cup of tea she offers up.

Roxy shrugs to answer the question. It is a sore spot, but she knows he won't push it. They both understand the sting of absent father-figures.

"How's Daisy?" she asks, because if they are poking each other's sore points, she knows his just as well as he knows hers.

"Better. Mum is giving her the meds I knicked," he traces his thumbs around the lip of the mug, before taking a sip.

"I'm glad the code to the A and E worked," she says, and he nods his thanks.

"Well, eat up, I'm going to get a shower." Roxy drops three pancakes to a plate and pours syrup over them, knowing Eggsy won't resist if the food could potentially be tossed.

"Ta, Rox," he says, low and quiet, before shuffling over to her kitchen table to the cleared off chair and portion of table that she's always considered to be his. Her eyes slide down to his sock covered feet and sighs, but nods. She takes her tea with her into the loo, and turns on the shower.

It doesn't take long, he _always_ scarfs down his food, and sure enough just as she takes her second slow swallow of tea, there is faint thud of her window shutting.

"Six years," she mutters to herself, and leaves the loo to go check the kitchen. The plate is clean, save for a few drops of syrup and sitting in the sink. Roxy pulls open the oven and sighs when she sees the stack of leftover pancakes there. There is a piece of paper propped up against them, reading in loopy handwriting, "Happy Home Day".

"Happy Home Day, Eggsy," she says. _Six years_, Roxy thinks, six years since her dad showed up with a bleeding young man and dropped him in her proverbial lap. She had stitched him up, put him back together and kept him safe until he was able to run away. Eventually, he had come back, but made it clear, when she offered to let him live with her, that he would never put himself in that situation ever again. He didn't want a home, but on the one year anniversary of the day Eggsy had been kicked from the only home he had ever known, Eggsy came back to celebrate their little family holiday- Home Day.

James made it when he could, but mostly it was Roxy and Eggsy reminding each other that despite being essentially orphans in the world, they had homes.

Letting the oven door slam shut, Roxy stood and put her hands on her hips. It would be nice if after six years, they could actually enjoy the day together instead of Eggsy's other tradition covering their day with a cloud of darkness and grief. Since Home Day shared its date with the anniversary of his father's death.

Scratching at the shaved part of her head, Roxy turned toward her shower. He'd be back after at least, she thought and then she could continue the other tradition-patching up Eggsy when he was injured. Rolling her eyes, she thought they _really_ needed new traditions.

-

Later that night, with three computers running, and at least that many servers carrying the weight of her hacking and wandering as she liked to call it, Roxy wasn't sure what made her tense up at the simple ding of a new email. It was getting late, she checks the clock to see it is just past midnight, and for whatever reason the 12:09 doesn't help the anxiousness curling up her spine.

Clicking on the email, she sees immediately it is from on of her father's accounts. She reaches under her desk and pulls out her handgun, not liking at all the way her stomach bottoms out and the hairs on her neck stand up.

The file inside downloads to her desktop and it immediately opens a video when it is finished. She sits back when her father's face appears, and she can do nothing to stop herself from pressing play.

"Rox," he says, and leans back a bit so the video can capture his entire upper torso. "I'm sorry to do this to you, but this has always been the only way I can guarantee our communication." He stops, and takes a slow breath.

"If this has arrived, it means that I haven't completed my last mission within my normal parameter time frame and someone has executed a delete on my mainframe's files. The short of it means, I've died. I'm sorry, darling, but the Kingsman won't be coming to notify you and I don't want to risk you or Eggsy finding out through the newspaper. You both need to know how much I love you," he chokes on the words, but then closes his eyes.

"This is being recorded two weeks before Home Day, and if it comes to you after, Happy Home Day my darlings," he smiles and looks into the camera. Roxy covers her mouth with her hand to try and stop the sounds forming in the back of her throat.

"Unfortunately, this isn't the only news I must deliver with this message. Recently, I've been investigating some strange occurrences within the Kingsman halls. Reports being mislabeled, evidence being destroyed, and illegal goods being lost. They all have seemed like clerical errors, but darling, no working for Kingsman makes errors like these. I've come to believe that there may be some sort of mole amongst our agents. I could not say for sure, but I think someone at least at my level, if not higher..." he trailed off, and rubbed his face.

"I'm sorry to do this to you, darling, but I need you to pick up where I leave off. I need you to investigate the Kingsman. The lives of my fellow agents could be at risk, and I trust you to be able to find out the offender. _Roxanne_," he stops, and for the first time in a while she can see the highlight of the grey at his temples, the lines etched more clearly in his face.

"I never could be the father you needed," James spoke softer, leaning in a bit. "I wanted to be, but there is something you must know about the mission that lead to me joining Kingsman... it came at the cost of another man's life. A man sacrificed himself for myself and others. He saved me, knowing that he would leave behind a son and wife, knowing I had just found out your mother was pregnant and I wasn't focused on the mission..." He shook his head.

"That man was Lee Unwin," James looks up into the camera. "I am deeply sorry, Eggsy. Your father was a brave man, and his death is on me. If I had been faster then he would have been home to keep you and Michelle safe. For that I can never atone for and must carry now to my grave. You both have become my life, and I am sorry to leave this dangerous task to you both."

There was a noise off screen and James glanced away, panicked. "I don't have any longer here. I love you Roxanne. My darling, I am so sorry to leave you like this," he cleared his throat, a tear welling up in the corner of his eye. "Eggsy, be strong for her. I can never begin to apologize for what you have suffered, but I am proud of the man you are. I love you as if you were my own. I wish I could have done more," he smiles bravely as he straightens up, hand reaching out toward the camera.

"Don't trust any of the Kingsman, Rox. Not until you find out who is responsible. My files will have downloaded to the server under Night-Wish. Follow my trail in and you will know the password. Be safe, darling."

The video closed and the screen resumed with her email at the forefront. Roxy didn't notice as she buried her face in arms and cried.


	2. Chapter 2

Of course the meeting had been a trap. Harry cursed himself as he stumbled into a back alley, tugging at his tie to be able to wipe the blue stuff off his face. He couldn't think anymore, could barely breathe. Every draw of air was like fire in his lungs, but the alley kept on.

"Oi, you! Get back here!" a voice shouted from behind him. Sounds of others bickering drew the man back for a moment. The others were still arguing over whether or not Harry was armed.

Using what was left of his momentum, Harry swung out into the street. Struggling to get his feet steady, he bounced off a parked car, setting off an alarm as he hurried down the sidewalk.

Several other people saw him and either turned away or walked by him. He tried to croak out a word but his throat was coated with whatever had been in Professor Arnold's hand. Harry cursed this assignment, but he was damned if it would claim the life of his friend and him in the same swoop.

The men were chasing after him now, shouting, but Harry couldn't focus on it. His head buzzed and his feet wavered under him. Spots began to dance about his vision and nothing seemed to shake them free.

"Stop him!" someone shouted. He lurched into another alley, hoping that no one had seen him move this way. His vision began to fog over and it felt like someone was pulling on his body. There was maybe only seconds before the men caught up.

A hand reached out and pulled him back. Harry turned, stumbling and recoiled from the punch to his jaw that sent pain flaring up his face. Another landed to his stomach and he hunched over, barely able to resist gravity.

"Shoot him in da head," a voice said. "Valentine wants dis taken care of 'lready." Harry shoves at the body closest to him, sending the voice laughing as someone grabs his arm and beats on him until he drops like a stone to the ground.

"Never seen nobody walk around with dat stuff in their system," the voice laughs. "Must be one tough son of a bitch."

"Just shoot 'im 'lready," another voice says, but Harry can't move this time. He despises that his limbs won't respond to his command and his eyes are already too blurry to see anything of use to him. His death, he finds, is going to be as disappointing as his life.

The sound of a gun cocking rings in his ears and he braces for the last sound of a gunshot.

Which never comes. Instead he hears someone shout "Oi, you bugger!" and the sounds of fists landing. He tries to focus, and sit up, but all he can see it the blur of a figure, grace and speed, disarming the men and sending them bleeding to the ground. There is two gunshots, but the figure seems to fly above them, kicking off the wall to knock the gun away from the one man.

All of the men end up on the ground, broken or worse in a pile around the figure. Harry can just barely make out the glow of blonde hair in the light from a street lamp. The figure moves in close as Harry blinks. A pair of blue eyes come into view and Harry just nods to whatever the man says.

Blackness closes in and Harry finds himself unable to resist the pull.

-

Eggsy sat in the corner of a fire escape and washed the blood off his knuckles. So far it had been a productive Home Day. Lilies were on his father's grave and two attempted rapes and one assault had been stopped. The tension that had been so tight around his spine this morning was starting to loosen its grip on him. He was almost ready to go back to Roxy's for midnight champagne and ice cream.

Six years, he muses. Six years and still he can't find it in himself to stay there longer than a night's reprieve from the cold. Once during a bitter winter he did spend a weekend hold up on her couch, but it hadn't lasted and he had damn near been chewing the window ledge to get out. Homes had become suffocating for him. Another problem he could lay at the feet of his father and his replacement: Dean.

Shaking his head, Eggsy tried to push back those thoughts. The night had been good, and he didn't need to ruin it with thoughts of his Mum's boyfriend. He set down a water bottle and dried his hands on his shirt.

He wonders if the night will produce anymore excitement when he sees a man come round the corner into the side alley Eggsy is hiding on. The man stumbles as he walks, obviously pissed already. Eggsy starts to stand, he doesn't need to watch this guy walk home.

Then four guys come into the alley after the first. One grabs him and punches the man hard in the face. Eggsy winces, noting for the first time the posh suit the first man is wearing. He sits back on his calves and waits to see how this goes. Eggsy doesn't need to step in if the posh-suit did something to provoke a beating. He doesn't need to get more shit from the gangs around his side of town.

Of course then one of the men starts talking on shooting the guy, and Eggsy quietly makes his way down the escape. He isn't there when the posh-suit shoves them away but it gives him a chance to climb off the railing and dangle for a moment, getting his bearings until the posh suit drops from the beating and the thug pulls the gun out again. Eggsy only has a second to take a deep breath and let go.

He lands one the first thug, kicking the gun out of the second before punching the third in the jaw. One of them shouts, "Oi, you bugger," but that just fuels Eggsy on.

The fourth is a big one, and Eggsy has to slide around his punches because the first one feels like a hammer to his chest. Second and third are reaching for guns, and Eggsy flips off the wall to kick the second into the first. They both bounce off a dumpster and Eggsy kicks off the wall to punch the fourth hard in the face. The man must have a solid jaw because it feels like he missed and punched the brick wall.

The third gets his gun out, letting off two shots towards Eggsy who is ducking around the fourth, who goes down from one bullet and the other grazes Eggsy's back before he's disarming him too.

They don't slow, and it takes Eggsy a lot longer than he thought before finally he's got the second in choke hold and waits until he goes limp to toss him to the side on the fourth guy who is bleeding and whining. He stands there, panting from the adrenaline.

Posh-suit just blinks up at Eggsy and he snorts to himself. Moving in closer he can see a trace of something blue coating the man's jaw and streaks are across his whole face.

"Can you move, bruv?" he asks, leaning in close. The man nods, and then falls unconscious. Eggsy sighs and rolls his eyes.

He hadn't realized it was going to be one of those kinds of Home Days. Still, he can't leave the man to be shot by whichever arsehole woke up first. Grabbing him up by one arm, Eggsy slings the man over his back and begins the very long trek through the back alleys to get to Roxy's place. He supposes it is sort of fitting to be bringing home a beat-up stranger to her on Home Day. Though, he doubts this man will last the day with them, he does feel that at least he is holding up to James' standards. Eggsy hopes the elder Morton stops by soon. Maybe they could all have champagne and ice cream when he did stop by.


End file.
